


Toby

by TheMewsAtTen



Category: The Halcyon (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 20:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12197199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMewsAtTen/pseuds/TheMewsAtTen
Summary: Adil is shy, thoughtful and worships Toby. He just finds it so hard to talk about it.So sometimes he writes him love letters, which he then burns. This is one of them.Just a short little something I wanted to get down.





	Toby

**Author's Note:**

> The Halcyon and these characters aren't mine, no copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from this.

I’m not good with words.

I’m not clever. Not like you are. But then I suppose most people aren't clever like you are.

I’m so scared. Scared to try to say too much about how I really feel. Because I feel such fear. Fear that I can’t make the words take the shape of my love for you. Fear that if I talk about it too much I’ll lose you. I can’t lose you. Not now I know that the truth of you is so much better than I could ever have imagined. And I imagined. I’m sure I could have died of imagining, before that day when you told me our kiss had made sense of you, and my world became bright and brilliant.

So I just write these things down. I write them and then I burn them. I know I can’t give these letters to you, anyway. There’s too much risk. But sometimes I just can’t hold it inside anymore. I say it to the page and I burn it so it’s in the air and somehow I feel like that might mean you can feel it. Like I could ever describe it. Like it isn’t beyond words. This feeling that you’re more than my lover. That you’re a part of me. That we’re parts of each other.

When we lay together I want to tell you that you're everything. Everything in this room and everything in the world. Everything in my heart. That you make everything more beautiful because you're alive. That you're glorious and that you make me want to live more. More life. More air. More _you_. Always more you.

And you're still so nervous. You don't quite believe, even now, that your body can give pleasure like this. Real, wet, hot, raw pleasure. That you were made for love, to be loved.

So I touch you in all the ways I know. I've learned what happens when I touch you there. And there. And here.

When I do it right you start to stop thinking, sinking your teeth, firm but gentle, into my skin. Breathing me in like there'll never be another time you'll be able to. And I am lit up with you. A version of myself no one has ever seen. No one knows this me exists but you.

You're still afraid that something will be wrong. But it can't be wrong. It's already right and can't be wrong.

You tremble with nerves at first, every time. When you tremble, finally, with pleasure, I feel like I've done something beautiful. It’s the closest I think I’ll ever get to feeling like an artist.

I love saying your name. I've realised I'll never get used to saying it. You tell me I make it sound grand. Magical.

I inhale you as I mouth at your skin. You are cloves and the salt of your sweat and tears. I have learned which parts of you respond to my touch, the way you whimper when I kiss your wrists, your ragged breaths as I swirl my tongue over the glowing pale skin of your stomach, your hips, up the skin of your thighs. The growl you try to stifle when I take you into my mouth.

A whisper. _I love you._

And oh God, I love you too. I love you too.

I can never quite tell you how lonely I was. They say love at first sight is impossible. They're probably right, but I came as close to it as anyone ever will. It was a wave of recognition, the first time I ever saw you.

_Ah, there you are. I've been waiting for you. All my life. And now you’re here._

And I knew I couldn't have you. Even now I don't think I can have you. Even now that you're looking at me, spread out beneath me, your eyes full of love and sex and wantonness. They make me understand why people submit to each other, hand themselves over to each other forever even though it could destroy them. Rip their own chests open and beg each other to break their hearts if it means just a taste of this feeling.

I have never known anyone so wonderful. Any feeling so wonderful. Any agony so wonderful.

You always cry out when you push yourself inside me. Always. As if you're surprised. As if it's still new for you, like it was new for you, not so very long ago.

That first time when you were so crazed with lust you nearly forgot to panic that you'd hurt me. So nearly. But I cried out - a cry that said _‘yes’_ and _‘that's perfect’_ and _‘don't stop’_ \- but you did stop. Even though it was the first time and I could have forgiven you. Would have forgiven you. You stopped, and asked me _‘are you OK?’_. And I nearly cried because I was happier than I'd ever been in my whole life. I looked into your dark eyes, and you moved. And moved.

We moved together. Perfectly.

And the feeling of you coming inside me was like an absolution; the ecstasy on your face as you filled me like the first time anything was worth seeing at all.

You make me want to break myself just to make you happy for a moment. You make me want to be braver. To be more.

I love you, Toby.


End file.
